The small, leather-bound skill book lay on the lab bench, a tangible miracle in a world of monsters and decay. It represented more than just a new ability; it was a spark of hope, a testament to the fact that they were no longer just victims of their new reality, but active participants who could shape their own strength.
Kai looked from the book to his friends. "There's only one," he stated, the weight of the decision settling in the quiet lab. "And I can't make another one until I get more XP to spend. So... who learns?"
An immediate, awkward silence fell. Elara and Ben both looked at the book, then at each other, neither willing to stake a claim.
"You should give it to Ben," Elara said finally, her voice firm. "He's... he's the most vulnerable. If we get separated, he needs to be able to defend himself."
Ben pushed his cracked glasses up his nose, shaking his head. "A strategically unsound allocation of resources," he countered immediately, his voice returning to its familiar, analytical tone. "My primary function is tactical analysis and support. While my personal survivability is a factor, the greatest increase to the team's overall combat effectiveness comes from strengthening our frontline. Elara, you consistently engage the enemy alongside Kai. This skill would exponentially increase your offensive and defensive capabilities. You should take it."
"But you can't fight, Ben!" Elara insisted, her protective instincts overriding his logic. "What if something gets past us? That tire iron is useless if you don't know how to swing it."
"And a sword is useless if your primary role keeps you away from the fight," Ben retorted. "My value is in observation and planning. Yours is in action. It's simple logic."
They both looked at Kai, the final arbiter. He listened to them, his gaze thoughtful. He pictured the chaos of their fights: Elara, fearless with her clumsy club, throwing herself at monsters; Ben, shouting tactical advice, forced to stay back, his terror barely masked by his intellect.
Ben's logic was cold, but it was correct. Making their frontline stronger was the best way to ensure everyone survived. Protecting Ben wasn't just about giving him a weapon; it was about building a wall he wouldn't need to hide behind.
"Ben's right," Kai said, his decision made. "Elara, you take it. You're always in the thick of it with me. You need this more."
Elara looked like she wanted to argue, but she saw the finality in Kai's expression. She gave a slow, hesitant nod.
Kai picked up the small skill book and handed it to her. Her fingers, smudged with soot, trembled slightly as she took it. "What do I do?" she whispered.
"I think... you just use it," Kai said, gesturing to the book. "Focus on it. Will it to teach you."
Elara clutched the book in both hands, her eyes closing as she took a deep breath. She focused. The simple leather booklet began to glow with the same soft, silver light it had been created with. The light intensified, and the book dissolved in her hands, its physical form breaking down into a thousand motes of light that flowed into her, sinking into her skin.
Her eyes snapped open, wide with shock. "Whoa," she breathed. A torrent of information was flooding her mind—knowledge of stances, parries, thrusts, and cuts. It wasn't just intellectual; her muscles twitched, phantom pains and strains echoing through her arms and shoulders as years of training were compressed into a single, overwhelming instant. She instinctively shifted her weight, her feet settling into a perfect, balanced guard stance she hadn't known a second before.
Kai unsheathed his cavalry saber and offered it to her, hilt-first. "Try it."
She took the sword, and the change was immediate and profound. Her previous grip on her tire iron had been a desperate, two-handed clutch. Now, her hand closed around the saber's hilt with a practiced ease, her thumb resting along the flat of the guard, her wrist loose and ready. The rusted, clumsy blade seemed to become an extension of her arm.
She took a step forward and executed a simple, diagonal cut through the air. The movement was fluid, controlled, and delivered with a sharp hiss of steel. It was the movement of a fighter.
A slow, amazed smile spread across her face. The terror and exhaustion seemed to melt away, replaced by a surge of newfound confidence. She looked at the sword, then at Kai, her eyes shining.
"I know how to use this," she whispered, her voice filled with awe. "I really know how to use this."
Ben watched, a genuine, delighted smile on his face. "Incredible," he murmured. "The direct transmission of procedural memory."
They had done it. They had shared the power. Kai looked at his sister, no longer just a brave survivor, but now a trained swordswoman. They were no longer a boy with a magic sword and his two friends. They were a team of fighters, ready for whatever came next.